


A Pirates Life for Me

by NerdyAdjacent



Series: Alternate Universe Collection [2]
Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: 18th Century, AU, Alternate Universe - Historical, Branding, Character Death, Gen, M/M, Pirates, Violence, Whipping, attempted hanging, because why not?, carribbean pirates, may be some sensitive themes just because of the time period, this fic is for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7458904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyAdjacent/pseuds/NerdyAdjacent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You cheated!"</p><p>"I'm a fucking pirate."</p><p>It’s the 18th century and pirates rule the Caribbean. Captain Dean Ambrose, along with his usually exasperated first mate, Roman, pillage and plunder for profit. One such plunder brings with it a ransom that could give them the riches they always wanted. But that ransom may be more trouble than he’s worth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bounty on the Horizon

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this one strictly for me. I just need pirate captain Dean Ambrose in my life.
> 
> Comments and kudos welcomed and appreciated :)

“Ship off the port bow, cap’n!” 

A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth and he gazed into the crowsnest where his look out, Neville, was holding a spyglass to his eye. He swiped a steady hand through his auburn hair and peered out at the open sea spread out in front of him like a great blanket of blue and white. They had been waiting for this for weeks now, a ship. The men had been getting restless, _he_ was getting restless. They needed action, a bounty to quiet the anxious men, a share to spend on ale and whores in the port cities. 

He couldn't tell the origin from this distance without a spyglass and called for his first mate, a large exotic man whom he named Roman. “Can you see who we might be dealing with?”

Roman, a native of the land of Samoa, was an imposing sort with deep olive skin and long black hair. The men called him a demon thanks to his ferocious nature in battle and the large tattoo that covered the length of his arm. Captain Ambrose made it a point to befriend the man when they had picked him up at port, sold to him as cheap labor. He turned out to be an avid sailor and a confidant. Someone Ambrose could not live without.

He also took none of the captains nonsense, which he needed. 

He approached the port bow and stood alongside the captain, still smirking at the way the crew parted for the Samoan. “Do you ever tire of them being afraid of you?” 

“When it is no longer useful, then yes.” He answered with a huge grin that earned him a friendly clap on the shoulder. He handed the spyglass over and waited patiently. “Who be it, Dean?”

If it were anyone other than Roman, it would have been ten lashes for being so improper to the captain, but as it were, Dean just lifted the piece to his eye and watched, reading the situation and it's earning potential. In these waters, odds of an English military ship were just as likely as a Spanish galleon filled with gold, or, at the very least, something worth ransoming. 

As a pirate, if he attacked the wrong type and lost, he'd be hanged publicly for piracy, his crew would probably meet a similar fate, or they could be sent to work in camps on the mainland. None of that sounded acceptable. 

“Appears Spanish.” He said, the smirk still at the corner of his mouth. The ship wasn't running flags, which was unusual, but not unheard of. Many in these waters would pull in their colors in hopes of avoiding a pirate attack. It didn't usually work. “No colors.”

“Could be a trick.” Offered Roman. 

Yes, it very well could be. If his ship had seen them, the odd were high they had been spotted as well. He didn't see any signs of military on what little he could see of the deck, but the ship looked too small to be a military vessel anyway. He dropped the spyglass and looked at Roman with a twinkle in his eye he knew got under the large Samoans skin. “Raise the colors, get the men to their stations. We're taking that ship.”

Roman sighed, but obeyed. “Aye aye, cap’n.”

Dean smiled and adjusted the sword at his side, ready for some action. 

Roman was yelling at all the crew, getting them into position with his booming voice. They all listened, knowing disobedience would be punished by the Captain. Dean thought of himself as a fair leader, but wouldn't hesitate to put someone in their place when necessary. His men respected, but feared him and that's how he preferred it. 

He ordered his helmsman to bring the ship around, which he did without hesitation. The wind was with them today and the bow turned easily. He ordered sail adjustment to bring up their speed, knowing his schooner could easily out-sail the larger ship they were hunting. Finally, he looked back just as his colors were hoisted to the top of the mast, a great skull with interlocking swords run through its open mouth. 

“Let's begin.” He said to himself, that grin widening as they approached. 

The fight was short, the captain giving in easily. Dean didn't blame him. When a ship full of pirates attacks, it's better to just relinquish the cargo and live to fight another day. Fortune was with them this day as the ship was carrying crates full of sugar to one of the coastal cities. Highly prized, the loot would gain them a large bounty when they reached port. 

“Cap’n Ambrose?” His Gunnery Master that went by Owens called from the captured ships captains quarters on deck. 

Dean turned to Roman, who nodded. He knew the Samoan would handle thing on deck while he attended to Owens. 

“There's nothing in there!” The captured captain called after him. “Please, just take the cargo and go!”

Dean shot him a skeptical look. “Obviously, that's not true. Is it?”

The captain clamped his mouth shut. Dean instructed Roman to watch him. Another nod from his first mate and he headed to where Ownes was waiting patiently. 

“What have you found?”

Owens pointed to a crate off to the side. “The chest sneezed, cap’n.”

“It _sneezed_?”

“Aye.”

Dean stepped up to the chest and inspected it carefully. It was large, typical of where a captain may keep papers of mark, but definitely large enough to fit someone of even Ambrose's tall stature. He looked back at Owens and pulled his cutlas free from his belt, with his Gunnery Master following suit by producing a pistol. He kicked it and there was a startled yelp from inside. Looking back at Owens, he ignored the ‘I told you so’ look on his face. 

“You in there?” He spoke to the chest. “Are you armed?”

“No.” Was the small, decidedly male response.

“Are you lying?” 

There was no response that time. Casting a cautious look over his shoulder at Owens, Dean carefully unmatched the lid and pulled it open, quickly assuming a defensive position with Owens by his side. 

Inside, a young man of no older than 25 was holding his hands up. Though he appeared like he could be a member of the crew, his white tunic and black breeches were too clean, which lead Ambrose to believe this man was hiding out - and not just from pirates.

“Who are you?” Ambrose asked, his defensive stance not wavering for the moment. 

“Seth.” He answered and stood up. He was tall and fit, but his hands were soft and his skin, though olive toned, was paler than someone who might spend time on a ship's deck. His face was kind, even with a few months of beard covering much of it. It was too well groomed to be that of a sailor. This person was more important than he appeared to be.

He didn't appear armed, but Ambrose was taking no chances. He nodded at Owens, who immediately grabbed Seth by the arm and pulled him from the chest, patting him down for any hidden weapons. 

“Why were you hiding, _Seth_?” Owens asked, giving the young man's shoulder a shove. 

“Because you're pirates.” He answered as if they shouldn't have been surprised. 

Dean dropped his sword, but kept it in his hand as he approached. He made sure to take his time and circle the man, taking in everything about his body language, his dress, his appearance. He stood tall, head held high like some sort of high ranking British twit, but his accent was decidedly not British. He could have been Spanish with his dark hair and eyes, but again the accent was wrong. 

“You,” Dean finally said, pointing the tip of his sword at the man's chest and almost grinning at the way he tensed. “Are not a sailor.”

“I am.”

Dean pointed the tip of his sword a little harder, eyeing his reaction. “No, you ain't. Owens, bind his hands, he's coming with us.”

The fear in the young man's eyes was laughable. He'd obviously heard stories of pirates, most true, some exaggerated. But something told him this man was important. If he was hiding out, pretending to be a sailor, that meant there was someone looking for him, and that someone probably had money.

This young man could prove very profitable indeed.

Owens made quick work of tying the man's hands in front of him and dragging him behind Dean as they left. The captured captain saw them and obviously looked agitated and distraught.

As did Roman. “What are you doin’, Cap’n?”

Ambrose watched as Owens led Seth to their ship. “He's important, Roman. I just don't know how yet.” Then he turned to the captain. “Who is he and why was he hiding?”

“He's n-no one significant!” The captain stuttered, trying and failing to throw Dean off. “A simple deck hand!”

Dean laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the captains assertions. “You are not very truthful, are you? Throw him overboard, Roman.”

Roman grabbed at the sniveling man's coat, but, predictably, his true cowardice won out. “Wait! He's the son of a Lord!”

That's what Dean was looking for. “Why is he hiding on your ship?”

“He's trying to gain passage to Spain.” Answered the captain. 

“That doesn't answer my question.” Dean snapped. “Besides, he doesn't sound Spanish.”

“His father owns a plantation in Florida and is a cruel man, forcing him to marry an even crueler woman.” The captain said. “He's just trying to get back to his mother.”

“Who is his father?” Roman asked this time and the captain refused to answer. Dean had a feeling it was because of who asked it and not the question itself. 

“Answer the man!” Dean yelled, tired of this dance. 

“Hunter Hearst Helmsley out of St. Augustine.” 

Dean had heard of him, everyone had. A bastard if one ever existed. He had a bad reputation of mistreating everyone who worked for him and delighting in the pain he caused. He was also one of the richest lords in the Caribbean. Bribing him would be an honor and a pleasure. 

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Dean said with a small, polite bow. “Now, throw him overboard Roman.”

“But! But!”

He didn't stick around to watch Roman toss the cowering captain overboard, but he delighted in the scream and splash that followed. 

Yes, this Seth could prove very profitable indeed.


	2. Earn Your Keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mentions of bigotry in this chapter, but remember it's the 18th century. It's nothing major, I promise.

With a hefty plunder and a sated crew, he was able to leave the captured vessel floating in the middle of the Atlantic with means to get themselves to port. He wasn't cruel. But business is business and a pirate is a pirate. 

The men would definitely be happy when they reached port. They deserved it. 

The plan was to head for the port of Tortuga, sell the sugar, rest a few days, and do it all over again. The pirate stronghold was a few days with good wind, so he had plenty of time to devise a plan for his newly discovered ransom. 

Owens had placed the man in the captain's quarters. When Dean entered, he could see that he was shocked at the sparseness. He was a simple man for a pirates captain, and his quarters consisted of a hammock, a table with maps spread out, and a basin to wash. That was all he really needed, but he could see it surprised his captive. 

“You don't have much to your name, do you?” Asked the dark haired man seated in a chair, hand still bound in front of him. He was watching Dean as he entered, keeping an eye on every move he made. This made the captain smile. He walked to his table and poured a tankard of rum before handing it to this Seth, who took it with his bound hands. He waited until Dean took a long swig from the bottle before drinking. He coughed and sputtered at the strength of the liquid, which made Ambrose grin. Admittedly, it took some getting used to. 

He leaned against his table and observed his captive with careful eyes, still trying to size up the young, handsome man seated across from him. After a beat, he began speaking. “The captain of the Spanish ship had some very interesting things to say about you.”

“Oh?” Replied Seth with a nervous raising of his eyebrows. 

“At first I thought you might be English by the way you carried yourself, but your accent is wrong.” He continued. “Then, I thought maybe Spanish by your look. Still, the accent was incorrect.”

“Well, you don't sound like a pirate.” Sighed Seth. “Aren't you all privateers for the English king?”

Dean laughed and took another drink from his rum. “The English can all rot for all I care. I'm not English.”

Seth tried his drink again and managed to keep it down this time. “So where are you from?”

Dean didn't answer his question, he merely stared at him with an amused smirk. This kid had some balls to ask a pirate captain questions on his own ship. 

“I'd like to talk about you, Seth.” Dean finally said after a moment. “I'd like to find out just how worth it is for me to keep you alive.”

Seth swallowed hard. 

Dean continued. “I know who your father is. My question is, will he be willing to pay to get you back in one piece?”

“I'd rather you just killed me.” Seth sighed. “Or better yet, let me join your crew!”

Dean laughed loudly, “You!? Join my crew?! They'd eat you alive. You'd be dead within the week.”

Dean watched Seth worry his bottom lip between his teeth and tried to forget how that made his face flush hot. “The you really have nothing to lose, do you?”

“I have a ransom to lose.” Replied Dean quickly. “Your father is the wealthiest man in Florida. I'm sure he'd pay a pretty penny to have his only son back.”

He pushed off the table and began circling Seth again. “However, no one stays on my ship without earning their keep. Maybe Roman can find a use for you.”

“Roman?”

Dean whistled loudly, causing Seth to startle. After a few moments, in walked Dean's first mate. Seth stared at him in awe, obviously unsure how to take the large Samoan who was now decidedly annoyed. He crossed his large arms over his broad, bare chest and scowled at Dean. “You know I hate when you call me like that.” 

Seth's head snapped to look at Dean. “You let someone like him talk to you like that?”

Roman cocked a displeased eyebrow and Dean's smile fell. Sometimes he forgot about how cruel the world could be outside his ship. 

“Listen well, Seth.” He said low and dangerous. “On my ship, Roman is equal to every other man here. As my first mate, his command is second only to mine. You will follow every command he gives you to the letter. You will address him as ‘sir’, just like you would if you are talking to me. Should you and your attitude find a task too menial, well I'm sure he'd be happy to show you just what a pirate punishment looks like. Understand?”

“Y-yes.” 

“Good.” Said Dean, then turn his attention to Roman. “Find him something to do.”

“Aye aye.”

Dean drew his knife and cut the bonds around Seth's hands. Then he thought for a second. “We can't call you Helmsley, the name is to recognizable.”

He searched around his quarters and noticed a bottle rolling back and forth with the motion of the ship. 

“We’ll address you as Rollins.” He said. “Seth Rollins. Understood?”

“Yes.” Seth answered and Roman smacked him in the back of the head. “Ow!”

“That's the captain!” He snapped. “You address him as such!”

Seth eyed Dean, who was back to smirking in amusement. “Yes, captain!”

This was going to make for an interesting dynamic.


	3. Lashes

“What do you mean they took the ship!” Hunter Helmsley screamed and slammed his fists down on his large mahogany desk, sending papers and wine spilling from the surface to the floor. He was fuming, his usually pale face flushed as the vein in his forehead pulsated with anger. “Do you know how much money that cost me!?”

The messenger shifted on his feet, unsure if he was supposed to answer. He breathed a sigh of relief when Helmsley continued his rant.

“No! You wouldn't! Who did it? Cook? Kidd?”

“A-Ambrose.” The messenger stammered and braced for the explosion.

“Ambrose!?” Helmsley screamed and this time threw his ink pot against the wall. It shattered into tiny pieces of crystal and left a large stain on the expensive wallpaper that some poor servant was going to have to clean up. “That little menace has been plundering all up and down this coast! He needs to be stopped!”

Then he stopped, straightened up and adjusted his expensive jacket. The messenger didn't know what to do. He couldn't leave until he was dismissed, but he desperately wanted to get out of there. This was the point when Hunter Helmsley usually had someone killed. And that usually was the messenger. When he sat back down at his desk, the messenger began slowly inching towards the door. 

“Go find me my son. He needs to know about this if he's going to take over for me.” Helmsley instructed and the messenger paled, eyes wide as dinner plates. He was hoping to get out of there and let someone else give Helmsley the news. 

“S-sir, your son was...on the captured ship.”

Hunter looked directly into the messengers eye for the first time since he had been in his office. “Excuse me?”

“Th-the rescued captain stated that h-he was on the ship trying to buy passage back to his mother.” Again the messenger took a wary step back. He could see the fury building in his master's eyes, despite how unnervingly calm he was being. “Ambrose is holding him hostage. W-we expect a ransom any day now.”

There was a low growl the escaped helmsley's throat mere seconds before he drew a pistol and shot the messenger in the chest. He fell with a thud to the expensive imported rug. 

“BARRETT!” He yelled and waited for his personal guard to enter. 

The man wasn't what would be expected. British born and former member of his majesty's guard, Wade Barrett was a brute of a man. He was tall and strong and forwent all the trappings of his status and pay grade for a more humble appearance. The bloodlust in his eyes is what drew Helmsley to him in the first place. He hadn't let him down yet, nor had he questioned any order given, no matter the severity. Barrett was as untouchable as Helmsley. 

“Sir?” 

Helmsley stood from his desk again, pacing now as rage coursed through him. “My son has been captured by pirates thanks to his own stubbornness!”

“That is unfortunate.”

Helmsley was suddenly in the englishman's face, though he made no attempt to back away or cower in fear. He was the only one not afraid of his master. “ _You_ are going to go to the garrison at port, pay them whatever you have to, get a ship, and bring me Captain Dean Ambrose's head on a stick!”

Barrett rolled his eyes, “Is that wise, sir? For what you will pay the garrison, the ransom might be cheaper.”

“I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE FUCKING RANSOM!” Helmsley screamed then shoved a finger into Barrett chest to emphasize his point. “He can keep my ungrateful bastard for all I care. That little pissant, Ambrose, has been raiding my ships for well over a year. He's cost me enough money to feed the entire city for a year! You find him, Barrett. I want him, and that band of miscreants he calls a crew, at the end of a rope before the end of the month. Do you understand?”

Barrett gave a quick nod, “Yes Sir.” 

“And get rid of this body and find me a new messenger.”

\---

It was a beautiful morning at sea and Ambrose stood at the ship's helm, humming gently to himself. He treasured moments like these, the rare hours before the day truly began with the soft breeze whipping salty air through his hair, the sound of the waves crashing against the hull, and the calm before even the birds woke up. These were the moments when he felt true my content. 

Plus, watching Seth sleep on the pile of ropes on the deck below him was very amusing. He was currently twisted into a strange position, with one booted leg hanging over the heap, his head lulling at an awkward angle that was sure to give him a crick in the neck, and a small line of drool that was pooling onto his shoulder. It made him genuinely smile for the first time in a long time. 

So far, Rollins hadn't shown himself to be terrible on a ship. Roman worked him hard and gave him little time to recover before moving onto the next task. But, he'd completed each one with little protest. The crew seemed to dislike him, but that was because he hadn't truly proven himself yet. Battle is where the true test lay. 

“Mornin’ Cap’n.” His helmsman said with a nod.

“Mornin’ Sami.” 

Sami was a good man, and an avid sailor for his young age. He was kind, surprising as a pirate, but wouldn't hesitate to take a limb in a fight. 

“What do you think of our new addition?” Dean asked as he relinquished his spot so Sami could take over for the day. 

He liked his crew to be open and honest with him, and many were, so Sami's next statement wasn't really a surprise. “He's soft, cap’n sir. He's got no business bein’ here.”

“Well, he won't be for long.” Ambrose replied with an appeasing smile, though he found himself a bit disappointed at ridding himself of the young man. “What say we have a little fun?”

“Cap’n?”

Dean leaned over the railing just above where Seth was sleeping. He took his jug of water and proceeded to pour the contents of which over the side and directly onto the sleeping head of his captive. Seth startled and sputtered, trying to get to his feet as quickly as he could only to tangle himself in the ropes and fall headfirst into the wooden deck planks. 

The crew, who had begun their morning duties, all took notice and laughed at the hapless man sprawled out and tangled. 

“Good morning, Rollins!” Dean called from the top deck, leaning over the railing and grinning like an idiot. “Sleep well?”

He heard him grumble something as he gingerly untangled his legs and pulled himself to his feet, adjusting his shirt and breeches, and pulling his boots up tighter. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't catch that.” Dean called, still chuckling. 

“I said,” Seth said back, having recovered enough to put an appeasing smile on his face. “I hope you fall overboard and drown, _Captain Sir._ ”

There was a hush that fell over the crew as each man looked at the other, unsure what to do. No one had obviously spoken to Ambrose like that without punishment. Roman was on Seth in an instant, grabbing him by the shirt front and dragging him to the railing, ready to push him over. “What did’ya say, boy?”

Seth was watching the large Samoan carefully, daring him to do it even as the first mate's face contorted and his mouth curled into a snarl. 

Dean stopped him, “Roman, leave him.”

Neither man moved. “But, Sir, he disrespected you. That needs to be punished.”

Dean was already sauntering down the deck stairs to the pair, still smirking - though it changed from amused to devious. A hand on the Samoans shoulder is what finally backed him off. He allowed Seth to right himself before speaking. “You have a problem with authority, don't you?”

Seth glared at Dean, causing his smirk to spread. “No, Sir.”

Dean nodded and laughed. “I think you're just used to being in charge. Am I correct?”

“No, Sir.”

Thinking for a few moments allowed Dean to size Seth up. “Roman is right, you disrespected your captain. But I'm feeling generous.”

He ignored the grumbles of displeasure from Roman behind him. Rather, he asked for the Samoans sword. 

“Captain, is this wise?” He asked as he handed it over reluctantly. 

Dean took it and offered the handle to Seth. “I trust someone like you has used one of these, correct?”

Seth looked at it, obviously unsure what to do. But, after a beat, he took the weapon and held it deftly in his hand, giving Dean his answer. 

“Good.” Then Ambrose drew his and walked to the center of the deck where there was more room. “You and I are going to settle this with a duel. If I best you, it's 10 lashes from Roman for insubordination.”

“And if I win?”

“You can rest easy knowing you bested the greatest swordsman in the Caribbean.” Dean answered and gave an emphasizing bow, waving the sword expertly. 

“What about the lashes?”

“You have to beat me, then we’ll talk.”

With no other choice, Seth approached Dean and the pair were immediately surrounded by the crew, eager to see their captain and the captive in action. They were already taking wagers. Roman just eyes Dean with obvious disapproval. Ambrose offered him a simple wink. 

Dean readied himself and allowed Seth to make the first move. Though hesitant, Seth did manage a small grin. “I should warn you, sir,” he said and readied himself. “I'm a fencing champion.”

Dean laughed. “I'll keep that in mind.” 

Seth immediately thrust forward with Dean easily blocking with a sidestep. The younger man tried the move again with the same result, this time with Dean tripping him and allowing his own momentum to drive him into the mast. 

“I don't think you're really trying, Rollins.” Chuckled Dean. 

There was a snarl from his captive and he flipped around quickly, slashing down with the sword. Dean managed to get the weapon up to protect, the steel of the blades sparking as they connected. Then Seth really showed Dean what he could do. They slashed and parried, and the clanging sound of metal on metal was only overpowered by the cheers of the crew when Ambrose got the upper hand. One particularly forceful swing managed to catch Dean in the arm, just barely scratching the skin under the lining of his favorite black shirt. 

Surprised, he glared at his opponent. “Nice move.”

Seth smiled, cocky. “Then you'll love this.”

He jumped on a crate, ready to twist and slash down with the sword. Immediately, Dean pulled on the rope lying on top of it, tripping Seth off and sending him tumbling off and onto his back. The boot on his chest and the tip of a sword in his face stopped him from trying to get up. 

Ambrose stood over him and grinned down. “I win.”

Seth was angry now and pushed Dean's foot off of him. “That was not sportsmanlike!”

The crew around them laughed right along with their captain. “No battle is ‘sportsmanlike’, Seth. You lost. Roman, 10 lashes.”

He sheathed his sword as the Samoan lifted Seth to his feet and kept a firm hold on him. Again Seth called after Dean as he headed back to the upper deck with Sami. “You cheated!”

“I'm a fucking pirate.” He called back without even turning. 

Dean watched from his perch as Roman and a few other crewmen dragged Seth to the large mast protruding from the deck. They quickly made him hug the large piece of wood and bound his hands around it. From his position, Seth could see Ambrose watching carefully. He was looking for any signs of weakness, but Seth gave him nothing but a hateful scowl as his shirt was torn from his back, exposing the skin. 

“Remember, you respect me on _my_ ship.” He called down to Rollins, whose eyes never looked away. The young captive braced himself the best he could as Roman snapped the whip behind him. 

“Begin!”

The first crack of the whip hit like nothing Seth had ever felt, like knives tearing along his flesh leaving burning lines of fire in its wake.

“One.” Ambrose counted.

The second hit and Seth bit his tongue to keep from crying out. 

“Two.”

The third hit his lower back and he yelped, but caught the cry in his throat. 

“Three.”

He stopped caring by four, gritting his teeth against the pain. 

“Four.”

Five and six were a blur. By seven and eight, he didn't try to hold in the howls of pain. He didn't remember nine and ten. 

Ambrose gave a nod and Roman and some men untied him and hoisted his so Dean could look into his face. “You will not forget to show respect to the captain anymore, will you?”

His voice was shaken when he responded, but that defiance was still there. “N-no Sir.”

Dean smiled then, admiring seth's bravado. “Good.” Then he addressed Roman. “Get him some medical attention and a glass of rum. Then come back on deck. We have work to do before Tortuga.”


	4. Backstory

Seth lay on his stomach on one of the few small wooden cots below deck with his head pillowed on his torn shirt, the only one he had. Any medical attention the young man would receive on this ship would be rudimentary at best, primarily concerned with amputating limbs being done by the ship's carpenter, an Irishman named Sheamus. 

He was dabbing Seth's back with what Dean hoped was clean water when he descended into deck hold. He watched them for a brief moment, taking in the damage done to the young man's strong back. But Roman was good and odds of any damage other than a scar were minimal. Even at that, Dean felt bad marring that perfect skin, but insubordination would not be tolerated, especially by a hostage. 

Something about this man confused and excited the captain. On one hand he could prove very lucrative and he'd be happy to have such an inexperienced, ungrateful, snob off his ship. On the other, he intrigued him. He was feisty, disrespectful, and defiant - which reminded Dean a lot of himself. He found himself drawn to this beautiful man, and could get used to having him around. 

“I can take it from here, Sheamus.” He said, drawing the attention of both men. Sheamus nodded and moved so Dean could sit at the stool he was using but Seth frowned and looked away. 

Once Sheamus was gone, Dean let himself really look at Seth. The wounds were superficial, more humiliating than painful he'd wager. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers over the line of muscle in Seths back, curious if it felt as warm as Dean imagined. But he refrained.

“I brought you a shirt.” He said and lifted the rumpled cream colored linen that had definitely seen better days when Seth turned to look.

He reached out and took the shirt with a nod of thanks. “You look better in maroon.” He stated after a beat.

Dean was confused for a second when he realized he was referring to his own change of clothing. The black shirt Seth had torn at the arm was now replaced with an old maroon one. He kept the leather vest and belt though, always proud that he had stolen such a fine garment. It was the ornate gold buttons, they really made it stand out as something different. Surprisingly, Dean felt himself blush under the compliment but tried to shake it off. How would it look if a captain were to preen as such? So, he busied himself with taking the already bloody rag Sheamus had been using and dipping it into the pink water. 

“You're pretty adept with a sword.” Dean said and gently began dabbing at the wound where Sheamus left off. 

Seth hissed at the pressure. “Thank you, sir.”

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” He asked. “That was definitely not the style of a fencing champion.”

Seth breathed out a chuckle and Dean found himself smiling. “My father thinks fencing is a gentleman's sport. I hate it, it never felt useful. My mother thought I needed to know how to defend myself and hired a Spanish master to train me when I visited her in Madrid.” Then he paused a second. “What about you? You're...different from any pirate captain I've met.”

“Have you met a lot of pirate captains?”

Seth hesitated, “No. But I've read about them.”

Dean laughed softly to himself. So naïve it was endearing. “You can't make assumptions on us all if you've only ever met one.” Then he paused for a beat. “What about this father of yours? Is he really that bad?”

Seth sniffed a disgusted laugh. “I hate him. He's a cruel man who mistreats everyone except his personal guardsman.”

“Including you?”

“Especially me. This isn't the first time I've endured pain as a punishment.”

Ambrose raised a questioning eyebrow, “But you have no lash scars.”

“Not all punishment comes at the end of a whip.”

He suddenly felt bad for this man lying in front of him. He'd been through alot in his young age and was just trying to make a better life for himself. Dean could relate. He wasn't quick to bring up his past or what brought him to where he was today - especially to his crew- but something in Seths face, the look in his dark eyes, one so familiar, made him want to tell him everything. Not even Roman knew what he was about to say, though he knew he shouldn't. 

“My father sold me to the English navy at a Philadelphia port when I was eight for half a shilling that he probably spent on a tankard of gin. My mother had died of fever the previous winter, and he could only afford to support one child and his drinking habit. That child wasn't me, but my older brother.” 

There was a sad smile on his face as he thought back on the memory of that day. He remembered hating the idea of sailing and eventually hating the English even more. He cried for home for several days until that homesickness was beaten out of him. Seth was watching with quiet interest, his previously annoyed eyes had softened as he allowed Dean to tell his story. 

“Though I hated my situation, I tried to make the best of it.” He continued. “I learned everything I could, took in all they were willing to teach me about sailing, fighting, and navigating. By the time I was 17, I had already replaced the current navigator. The ship was attacked by pirates off the coast of Bermuda. They killed everyone on board and took the cargo.”

“Everyone but you?” Seth asked and Dean had almost forgot he was there. 

He nodded. “Lucky for me their navigator had been killed a few months back. So it was join or die. But pirates are far more democratic then you think. Everyone gets their fair share and heroic deeds are rewarded.”

Seth had sat up and was searching his face, interested and maybe a bit enraptured in the story he was being told. But there was something else there. Sympathy? Admiration? He wasn't quite sure. “Is that how you got your own ship?”

Dean nodded and smiled fondly. “We were surprised by a Spanish military ship, one of the armadas best. The canon fire was so loud it could shake your teeth and everyone was running to get us out of there before they sank us. Thankfully, the ship we were on was fast, faster then most, and we were able to just get out of reach and into the shallows where the gunnery ship couldn't go. But one last blast hit our stern. I just managed to get the captain out of the way before it sliced through the top deck and there was a large hole where the captain had previously been standing. 

As thanks, he gave me this ship that I renamed _Bedlam_ and the rest is as you see it. I don't tell this story to many and I would appreciate it if you would keep it private.”

Seth sat in stunned silence for a long moment but was nodding. Then, maybe in a moment of weakness, the younger man leaned forward and placed a kiss on Dean's lips only to pull back quickly. “I'm sorry. I know that wasn't -”

Ambrose cut him off by taking the back of his neck and crashing their lips together again. Seth's were much softer than his own, sea chapped mouth, but they needed to fit together so perfectly. Dean felt a shiver of want run down his spine when Seths hands made their way to tangle in his hair and tug. 

When they parted, both were left panting and a little surprised, until Seth smiled and Dean felt his heart flutter in his chest. “You sure I can't join your crew?”

“Let's see what happens in Tortuga.”


	5. Stolen Bounty

The next few days had passed like nothing had happened, but Dean couldn't bring himself to push that moment with Seth out of his mind. The kiss was like a burst of energy between the two of them, a shock to the system where he didn't know he could feel. He'd had his fair share of women, and some men, but with Seth it was different. There was a connection between them that surprised him and scared him and thrilled him all at once. But neither spoke a word about it. 

He had been called away by Roman a few minutes later and it was as if nothing happened. Seth went back to doing whatever duties Roman would give him while Dean busied himself with making preparations for port. 

Finally, Roman became fed up with Rollins and sent him below decks under Owens’ charge. Dean hadn't seen him since. 

Maybe it was better that way, having Rollins out of sight. It meant he could prepare himself for giving him up. That ransom would be a sizable sum if Helmsley wanted his only son back with all his fingers. Of course Dean would never actually cut off any of Seth's digits, opting to send Hunter some off a corpse, but it would be an effective method he'd used before. He'd send a message to Helmsley once they arrived in Tortuga. It should only be another day or so. 

Now he sat pouring over maps, trying to think of his best course of action after leaving the pirate stronghold. Word had been spreading about the Dutch trading ships picking up their transports of goods from the Spanish settlements in Porto Bello, the French had been spotted with trade heading out of Barbados, or there was always Jamaica. 

Jamaica was tricky, but could be profitable. As the largest English port in the Caribbean, many ships carrying goods called it home. They had hit jamaica before, and did get away with several tons of tobacco sent for transport to England, but it almost ended in disaster. They had lost several good men, and the damage to the ship was extensive, and the haul didn't net them as much as he had hoped. But he knew there was money to be made in Jamaica, they just had to be smart. He'd suggested it several times after, but was always talked out of it by Roman. 

He'd been considering hitting it again. Jamaica was a potential goldmine and that is where he would make his fortune. 

Roman barged into his quarters just as he'd settled back into his chair, mind made up. He looked frantic, breathless and wide eyed. Something had happened. “Roman?”

“Cap’n, Neville spotted a ship off starboard.”

Dean was on his feet now, grabbing his black jacket off the back of his chair and slipping his arms through the sleeves. He was following Roman out the door without even thinking about it. “Who is it?”

“Neville reckons another pirate ship, Sir.” He answered, pace quickening toward the helm. “But they have their guns set. They aren't running colors.”

Dean grabbed the spyglass from Sami, who was waiting patiently on deck. A quick look around and he saw most were watching and waiting for their next move. There was a tense air about the ship, every man knowing the patenting for heated discussions to lead to an all out fight. 

That's when Dean spotted Seth. He was leaning against a crate, arms folded over his chest. He was the only man not watching the ship; his eyes were firmly fixed on Dean. 

Dean had to ignore him, had to push past the urge to smile and appease the apprehensive look on his face. He turned away and raised the glass to his eye. The ship was a French frigate, with two lines of carriage mounted guns open and ready on her port side. They couldn't outrun the little warship, they definitely couldn't outman her, nor could they outgun her. All they could do was wait and hope all they wanted was the cargo. This ship meant business and was ready to attack at the slightest provocation. 

“Fucking hell.” Dean said to himself, just loud enough that only Roman would hear. He turned to his first mate, trying to be as calm as he could manage. Last thing he needed was a panic. “Run up our neutral flag. Get Owens ready, but make sure he's quiet about it. Tell him to aim the cannons low and maybe we can at least cripple them, force them to take on water. Tell the men to get to their places, but to be quiet about it. We don't want them to suspect were getting ready to fight.”

“Are we getting ready to fight, sir?” Asked Roman quietly. 

“I hope not, my friend.”

Roman gave a quick nod of understanding, patted him on the shoulder, and moved to do as he was asked. Dean waited a few seconds to look back at Seth, still perched on the same spot and still studying him closely. He knew this action would make him look weak in the other man's eyes, and he felt a small pang of regret for what he was about to do. But sometimes, it's better to live to fight another day. 

At the back of the ship, his neutral colors were hoisted into place and he raised the glass again to his eye. That should prompt a reply and sure enough, the ship raised its flag - a skull in profile with a great horn protruding from its forehead. Woods. That was the frigate _New Day_.

“Son of a bitch.” He spat. Woods and his crew were known to be jovial and generally happy, spouting words of positivity to whoever they encountered. That is, until you crossed them. Then they were ruthless and dangerous, swarming their prey and using their numbers to overpower. Dean had used this method many times and had no desire to be on the receiving end of it. 

The next half hour was an excruciatingly long wait for Woods and his frigate to approach and come up beside Dean's ship where they threw ropes to tether them together. Dean complied reluctantly. He adjusted his black jacket, making sure the long fabric covered his sword held firmly at his hip, and waited on deck for Woods and his two top crewman, Kofi and Big E, to draw a plank over and board. They were loud, obnoxious, and wore obscenely bright colors for a band of pirates. 

“Captain Ambrose!” Woods said with a large smile and outstretched arms as he approached. Dean could feel Roman tense at his side, but he made sure to put on a friendly face right alongside Deans. “I knew this little piece of junk was yours! How are you, my friend?” 

Dean grinned and made sure to keep his hand on his sword. “I've been better, Captain Woods. I gotta say, being boarded wasn't on my list of things to be fearful of today.”

Woods laughed, loudly and with forced amusement that got under Dean's skin. His two henchmen laughed right along with him, as did his entire crew watching from his deck. “Well, lucky for you we aren't in the mood for a fight, provided you accommodate us.”

“And what would we need to do to _accommodate_?” Asked Dean, voice tight behind the cool smile. 

“We hear you just picked up a nice load of sugar from one of Helmsley's ships, Captain.” Answered Kofi from behind Woods. 

Dean eyed him carefully but managed to keep his face calm. “Did you?”

It was Big E who spoke next. “A haul like that must be weighing you down, Ambrose.”

“That's Captain Ambrose to you.” Roman spat immediately, earning a hearty laugh from the large man. 

“Apologies, _Captain_.” He recovered, side eying Roman. “We're just here to lighten your load...as a favor.”

It was Dean's turn to laugh, spurring chuckles and grins from his own crew. “You want to take my bounty?”

“As a favor.” Repeated Woods. “A goodwill gesture.”

Dean turned and gave Roman a look, one meant to convey that this was probably about to go south any second now. Then, he stepped up to Woods, towering over the much smaller man, Roman right behind him with Sami on his other side doing the same. He was smiling, but making it clear that he wasn't stupid, he knew exactly what Woods was trying to do, and didn't appreciate him boarding his ship to do it. “I think you've overstayed your welcome. You should get back on your ship and go before this escalates.”

Woods grinned, his jovial smile replaced with a dangerous and challenging one. He didn't back down an inch. “That was not very nice, _Dean_.”

“Neither was you and your little band of positivity pushing your way into my deck, _Xavier_.”

Neither man moved, each daring the other to make the first blow. Dean's grip tightened on his sword, ready for anything to happen, his eyes firmly locked with Woods’. 

“You know you can't beat me.” Woods said through his teeth, just loud enough for Dean to hear. “Why put up a fight? All our guns are ready to blow your little floating piece of shit out of the water. Do you really want you and men to be shark bait?”

He was right, and Dean knew it, but that didn't mean he was going to make this easy on Xavier. “I'll give you 10%”

“10%!?” Woods cried, obviously insulted by the low number. “Don't insult me! 50%.”

“Now who's insulting who?” Responded Dean. “15%.”

“45%.”

“20%. Final offer or I put my sword through your gut and no one walks away a winner.”

Woods though for a few seconds and stuck out his hand. “Deal.” 

Dean shook it quickly and nodded at Roman. His first mate called for the crates as Dean and Woods continued to stare each other down. Tensions were high until Xavier and his men were on their own ship, guns retracted, and on their way without incident. 

Dean gave control of the deck to Roman, “Get us to Tortuga.”

“Aye Aye, sir.”

Then he turned on his heels and headed back to his quarters with a frown firmly on his face. He closed the door but barely made it to his bottle of rum before it opened again and Seth barged his way in. “Are you looking for ten more lashes, Rollins?”

“Why did you just give in, _Sir_?” He asked, emphasizing the ‘sir’, angry that Dean had done what he had and obviously not afraid to show it. 

He laughed humorlessly to himself and took a swig from his rum bottle. “I'm not stupid, Seth. He could have easily sank us and he could have demanded more. Hell, he could have taken it all. We got away with little more than a bruised ego.”

“20% of all that sugar was worth thousands of pounds!”

“You think I don't know that?” He said and stepped up to Seth who stood fast. “You think that was the first time something like that has happened?”

“So you just gave it up?”

“Hell no.” Dean answered then gave sent a knowing smirk. “Those crates were filled with cannonballs covered with just enough sugar to make it believable.”

Seth dropped his arms. “You tricked him?”

His smirk widened and he pointed a finger into his own chest, “Pirate.”

Seth shook his head but there was a smile slowly spreading across his face. He snatched the bottle of rum from Deans hand and took a long drink. Apparently he was getting used to the taste. Shoving the bottle back into Dean's hand, he took the captain by the jacked and pressed their lips together. For a moment, he let himself melt into the taste of Seth mixed with the spicy alcohol on his lips...only a moment. Then he pulled away. “Stop.”

Seth looked shocked, confused, and a little hurt. “Why? I thought -”

“You are nothing more than my hostage.” He lied. “And I get the feeling you'd rather be anywhere else than on this ship, despite asking to join my crew.”

“That's not entirely true.” Answered Seth. 

“So what is ‘entirely true’, Seth?” Dean asked as he took a step back. “Enlighten me. I told you, i'm not stupid. What happened before was a moment of weakness that shouldn't have happened. You have barely looked at me since then unless it's convenient for you. So tell me, what's your play here?”

The younger man ran a hand through his hair, pulling several dark strands from the twine holding them back. If Dean didn't want an answer, he'd find it endearing. 

“I want to go back to Spain.” Seth answered quickly. “I can't go back to my father, not after all this. He never wanted me in the first place, I'm the bastard son of a woman he took advantage of. My mother sent me to him in hopes of a better life and I've been able to take care of her, keep her comfortable. Helmsley doesn't want me, he wanted an heir. My mother is the only one who ever cared, ever wanted something more for me, wanted me to be happy. She took ill a few months ago and they don't think she'll make it to winter. I need to get back to her before...before she goes. I was hoping you'd take me.”

“So you played to my sympathies?”

“I'm sorry, sir.” Seth said, taking a step towards Dean. “But I do have this...this weird attraction to you.”

Deans eyes narrowed dangerously. “You expect me to believe that after you just told me you were using me and my ship to get you back to Spain?”

“That's not a lie.” Seth responded, taking Dean's face in his hands only to have him immediately pull it free. 

“I should have know you'd play me.” He chuckled sadly. “Rich little snob who has always had everything handed to him. We're sending the ransom note to your father when we reach port. Leave my quarters.”

“But, Dean, I -”

The slap cut him off and he recoiled, clutching the side of his mouth. Dean had a finger in his face before he could even right himself. “You don't call me by my name. It's Captain or Sir.”

“I'm sorry, Captain.”

Dean felt a sudden need to kiss him again, but this is how thing needed to play out. Seth made things hazy, muddled. He couldn't think straight when he was looking at him with those big brown eyes. If this went any farther, it could be dangerous for the both of them. This was how it needed to be.

“Get out.” He seethed. “Get back to work.”

Seth gave him one last look, one that conveyed everything he was feeling. It was one that almost broke Deans resolve. But he nodded, and slowly walked out, closing the door behind him. 

“Fuck!” Dean screamed and threw the glass bottle against the wall, delighting in it shattering into a million pieces. Why were things so complicated? Why did he have to have feelings for this man who should have just been a hostage to barter with? Why did he have to just fuck everything up?

He sat in his chair and scrubbed his hands down his face, trying to shake it off. The quicker they got to Tortuga, the better. Then he could send the ransom and be rid of Seth. 

Then, Jamaica.


	6. Tortuga

Tortuga wasn't what one might think of as a pirate stronghold. Sure, there were plenty of not so reputable characters who found their way there, taverns and brothels were on every street corner, and fights tended to spill out into the mud soaked streets more often than not. But Tortuga was a place where deals were made, profits were bought and sold. 

That is what they were there for. 

They docked at port and Dean paid the dock manager a ridiculous sum just to make sure no other pirates boarded his boat. He'd already given the crew leave with orders to return to the ship in a week. He knew some wouldn't return, and he never blamed them for it, it was just how it was. 

He took Roman, Owens, and Seth with him to broker a deal for the sugar. Owens was under strict orders to make sure Rollins didn't try to run off somewhere. It wasn't like he had anything to barter with to get passage on another ship, but Dean still wanted to keep him close. Last thing he needed was for some other, less forgiving, pirate to find out who he was and steal away his ransom. It's happened before. 

He didn't look at Rollins if he could manage it. He couldn't. If he did, he wasn't sure how he would react. He didn't trust himself around the young hostage, but he knew he wanted him. When he did catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye, he was always looking at him. His dark eyes were full of something akin to longing, but Dean knew better. He just wanted to get back to Spain and was willing to play to deans obvious attraction to him. 

In the back of his mind, he thought that maybe, just maybe, Seth really did have a connection with him. After all, he'd kissed Dean first. Part of him wanted to help, it really did. Another part wanted him to stay. The last part, the largest part, wanted that ransom he could coax out of Helmsley. 

The Golden Glove tavern was the place to buy and sell your wares if you didn't want to be cheated...much. That's where Dean and his men were headed. The building was falling apart thanks to the salty air, cannon fire, and the daily gunshots pockmarking it's formally sandstone facade. It probably was a beautiful building in its heyday, but thanks to the scoundrels running the place, it lost that former grandiosity it might have once held.

There was already a fight going on when they walked in. From what Dean could tell, it was two men fighting over a prostitute. Pretty normal for this place. He sidestepped the fight, just missing getting slugged in the face, and grabbed a tankard of ale off a passing tray before the poor waitress was tripped by the ongoing brawl as he went. Waste not. 

It was Roman who ultimately broke up the fight, grabbing each man by the collar and slamming their heads together before dropping them to the filthy wood floor. It was completely understandable, they were in his way. The only one who even payed attention to the entire interaction was Seth. The man looked absolutely astonished by the fact that no one else was reacting, merely stepping over the fallen pirates and continuing about their business. It took Owens physically grabbing Seth by the shoulder and shoving to get him to move. That made Dean grin, and of course Seth caught him and that feeling he was afraid of started bubbling back into his chest. He didn't even bother acknowledging him, he just turned and continued about his business. 

They were there to see a smuggler who would buy their goods and resell them around the Caribbean. They were someone who could be perceived as a well respected member of the colonies, but pirates knew better. Charlotte. Blonde, busty, and mean, but one hell of a saleswoman. 

She could usually be found huddled in the back room of the Golden Glove, waiting for some enterprising captain with goods approach. There was already some other captain sitting across from her at the table she seemed to always occupy. He was trying his damndest to flirt his way into her leather breeches, gently rubbing his hand over he red velvet jacket. She couldn't look more disinterested. 

Dean and Charlotte had a history, one he knew would trump any other man trying to woo himself into her bed - or at least to a better price. Dean and charlotte had once been what could be called lovers. She sailed on his ship for a few months, they plundered and fucked until she got bored and moved onto bigger and more lucrative business opportunities. They still had the occasional tryst when they had the chance. So he wasn't shocked when her face lit up when he approached. 

“Miss Charlotte!” He beamed, bowing to the lady and winking with a sly grin. “It's so good to see you again, beautiful.”

“Ambrose, you sly dog!” She laughed and extended her hand to him. He took it and kissed her knuckles. “I was wondering when you'd come by my table again.” 

“Excuse me!” The other man snapped at him.

“You're excused.” They both answered in unison. 

The man sat there for another few seconds, completely flabbergasted that he was being pushed aside. Charlotte finally eyed him. “You're in his seat.”

“I have never been so insulted!” He cried, shooting to his feet. “Serves me right to coming to a _woman_ for this!”

That caught both of their attention. Dean stepped up to him in warning. “You should move on, friend, before you regret it.”

“I ain't afraid of you!” He spat back.

“Never said I was the one you should be worried about.”

Without warning, Charlotte lifted her booted foot and kicked the man square between the legs. While he was doubled over in pain, she punched him in the nose. He fell to the floor clutching his bleeding nose and wounded manhood. Dean just stepped over him. He respectfully waited for her to sit first before he occupied the other man's seat across from her. 

“What brings you to Tortuga, Captain?” She asked with a devious twinkle in her eye that was not lost on him. 

He gave her his best flirty grin, one he knew would work - unlike that other dog. “Always to see you, beautiful.”

There was a disgusted chuckle from where his crew was standing. One glance at them and he knew it was from Seth. Owens still had a hold on his shoulder and Roman was blocking his exit, but his arm were crossed in front of him and he was making it a point to shake his head and look away. It appeared as if he was...jealous? 

When he looked back at Charlotte she was eyeing him with a mischievous smirk. “Do you have a new plaything, Ambrose?”

He huffed out a breath and shook his head. “Ignore him. My attention is all yours.”

She leaned on the table, making sure her breasts were on full display for him in the black leather corset. He made sure to keep eye contact. This was one of her tricks, to distract the men she did business with in hopes to get what she wanted. It would usually work, but Dean knew her so well. It only took his hand on her thigh for the mood to change and a shiver run just under her skin. 

Then she laughed, knowing exactly what _he_ was doing, and sat back in the chair. “I've missed you, Ambrose. But I know you're here to do business, so let's do business and maybe we can mix in some _pleasure_ later.”

He smiled and winked. “A woman who knows when to take charge. I like it.”

Another disgusted laugh from Seth was resolutely ignored. 

“I have come into possession of a large sum of sugar I'd like off my boat.” He said, keeping his tone firm but flirty, just how she liked it. “I think you can help me with that.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Sugar, huh? Word has it Woods and his band of merry men have been trying to fence some gunpowder laden cannonballs covered in sugar. You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?”

All he had to do was grin his answer. “He shouldn't have boarded my ship. But I can assure you, my cane is pure.”

“I'm sure it is.” She said with a flirtatious wink. “You're lucky I know you won't fuck me over unless I ask you to. How many crates?”

“80.”

“I'll give you 50 per crate.”

He laughed, “50!? It's worth at least three times that, Charlotte.”

“Five times that.” Seth muttered and Owens shoved him to quiet him.

“Did he say five times that?” Charlotte chuckled. 

Seth shrugged Owens off and, despite the hard glare from Dean that he didn't pay any attention to, sat down at the table. “Charlotte, is it?”

She hooked her thumb at Seth and frowned. “Who is this fool, Ambrose?” 

"A dead man, apparently." He answered through his teeth, trying to keep himself calm and collected. Seth just earned himself twenty lashes. He'd be lucky if Dean didn't decide to keel-haul him instead. But none of that seemed to even faze Seth.

“I'm Seth...Rollins.”

She looked from Seth to Dean and back, now amused. “Ok, Seth, what were you saying about five times the price?”

Seth looked at Dean, who was just about snarling at him, but just kept digging his own grave. “I happen to know that sugar on the mainland is going for 250 a crate and is only going to go up with the winter coming. The East India Company is starting to dominate the tea and spices market with the need for sugar rising. What's 150 in the long run?”

She eyed Seth. But what surprised Dean was that she was obviously mulling it over, so he played along because, if this worked out, he wouldn't drag Seth behind the boat as shark feed. 

“75.” She came back with.

“125.” Seth countered.

“90.”

“110.”

She paused then beamed a smile at the pair and held out her hand to Dean. “Deal.”

Surprised, but able to keep a grin on his face, he took it and shook it twice. “Pleasure doing business with you, my lady. Roman will take care of the particulars.”

Roman nodded. 

Dean got up to leave and grabbed Seth by the arm to pull him behind him. Charlotte turned in her seat and whistled to get his attention. When he turned, she winked at him coyly and blew him a kiss, earning a deep eyeroll from Seth. 

“I'm staying here in the tavern, Deano.” She said. “If you wanna catch up later.”

He nodded his thanks and even threw in a sly wink for good measure, before pulling Seth behind him out of the tavern with Owens in tow. Once outside he grabbed Seth by the shirt and slammed his back into the side of the building. Without taking his eyes off the man, he told Owens to go find something else to do. 

“Aye Aye, cap’n.” He said and gave Seth one last sympathetic look as if to say _poor bastard_.

When Owens was gone, Seth began shifting uncomfortably under Dean's hand still tangled in his shirt, waiting for him to do something, anything. 

“How _dare_ you take over that conversation!” He finally growled. “You had no right to-”

“She was low-balling you, _sir_!” he interrupted and Dean didn't know whether to be more angry or impressed. “The price of sugar has been rising steadily every month. 50 a crate was the price given six months ago.”

Yeah, he was impressed, but he wasn't going to show it. Giving another shove to emphasize his displeasure, he jabbed a finger into Seth's chest. “I had everything under control. Charlotte and I have a history.”

“Obviously.” He sniffed.

Now Dean was annoyed. “Are you jealous?”

“No!” Seth snapped far too quickly for it not to be a lie. “I don't care what she is to you, Captain.”

“I think you do.”

Seth eyed him for a few seconds, obviously unsure what to say next. Finally he pushed Dean's arm off of him and squared his shoulders. “So what if I am? It's not like you aren't going to ransom me back to my father anyway!” He looked Dean up and down with a sudden shift in mood that could only be described as lust. “Despite the fact that I could be very _useful_ to you, sir.”

Dean took a step back. “We've been over this, Rollins.”

Seth shoulders hunched, defeated. “Yeah, we have. Do what you will.”

Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I'm sorry. I really am.”

Seth just chuckled humorlessly and began the trudge back toward the boat. “I'm sure you are.”

Dean followed, though he suddenly couldn't help the feeling of guilt now settling in his gut. Sami had already sent the ransom out to the courier, so there was no going back but to wait for a reply. 

Neither saw Wade Barrett watching from the shadows. His garrison ship had already intercepted the frigate _New Day_ with some very interesting information about Captain Ambrose and his whereabouts. He'd sent a runner to Helmsley a day prior. A full English garrison should be in Tortuga within 48 hours. 

Helmsley would surely give him a commendation for this and one more pirate would be off the seas.


	7. Stars and Shackles

Nights on the ship were just as beautiful as the mornings, even docked at port. The wonders that a new day might have held are all muted by the inevitable death of that day and any promise it might have held. The dark took over and life seemed to shift to something new and dangerous, but no less dazzling. Dean liked the night because even through the sounds of drunken fights, gunshots, and laughter, it was peaceful. 

Lying back on to of one of the deck crates, he was able to see the stars twinkling through the sails. They always seemed so permanent, never moving from their home in the inky black of the night sky. When daylight came, they steadfastly held their position. They were the only truly permanent, real things. 

He used to count himself among them as a cemented man who knew what he wanted and would never waver. Now, thanks to his stowaway, that was changing. Before he could have been content just sailing the sea, the spray of the ocean hitting his face, gathering riches and wealth until he could build a house on an island somewhere and live out the rest of his days fat and happy. Now every time he thought of that future he pictured Seth by his side, smiling and looking at him in that way that seemed to say so little and so much all at once. It made him angry and confused and want it while wanting to hate it all at once. 

He'd heard him approach, but made no attempt to look at him just yet. “They're beautiful aren't they?”

“What? The stars, captain?” Seth asked and climbed onto the crate to sit at his head, exactly where Dean would have to look at him. 

“Yeah.” He answered, eyes still glued to the inky black sky dotted with glimmering diamonds. “There is nothing more constant in the world than the stars. They can always lead you where you want to go.”

He could see Seth look up out of the corner of his eye and that's when he finally really looked at him. He was beautiful in the starlight. “You ever wonder what they are?”

Dean chuckled and pulled himself into a sitting position next to Seth. “I'm just a lowly pirate. You're the educated one. You tell me.”

Seth met Dean's eye and there was a glimmer of a sad smile there. “My mother told me once that they were souls of lost lovers, shining bright until they could find their mate again in eternity. Like a beacon.”

Dean looked up again, well aware that Seth's eyes were still firmly fixed on his face. He thanked the darkness for hiding the flush he could feel creeping into his cheeks. “There are lots of lost lovers up there. Too many for it not to be beautifully sad.”

He looked back at Seth and then away quickly. “Thank you.” He said, trying not to meet his eye because it wasn't something a pirate captain said often.

“I'm sorry, I didn't catch that, sir?” Seth responded, obvious amusement dancing in his voice. 

Eyeing Seth out of the corner of his eye, annoyed at having to repeat himself, especially to him was agonizingly embarrassing. Though, in the grand scheme of things, Seth did deserve it. “I said, thank you. You really came through with Charlotte at the tavern. I was hoping to talk her out of 75 a crate, but you definitely got a better deal. So, thank you.”

He was smiling when Dean looked at him fully. “You're welcome, sir.” He said, taking in the praise like he never heard it before. Maybe he didn't. If what Seth had said about his father was true, then why would he care that his son was smart and funny and stubborn and beautiful and a pain in the ass…

Dean's lips were on Seth's before he even realized what he was doing, molding their mouths together in a moment of unanticipated need. Somehow, he didn't want them to be like the stars in Seths story because they were right here, right now, and he didn't want to lose him goddammit! 

Seth didn't fight him. In fact, it was the exact opposite. He wrapped his arms around Dean's neck and pulled him closer, savoring each little nuance of what was happening in the here and now. When Dean pushed him back to gently lay him down on the crates, he let him guide him while their mouths remained fused together. 

“Stay.” Dean breathed into his mouth after a moment and Seth pulled back to stare at him with a mix of shock and relief. “I'll take you back to Spain. Forget the ransom, you're father, all of it. Just...stay.”

“I thought you wanted me gone, sir?”

Grinning at the sudden understanding that had been creeping into the back of his mind steadily, he knew then exactly where he wanted Seth. “I was wrong. I want you here, by my side...if you'll have a crazy pirate captain like me.”

“Would your crew accept that? Accept _us_?” He asked and Dean couldn't give two shits what his crew would and would not accept. 

“They can leave if they don't.” He said. “The loyal ones will.” 

He leaned down and again pressed their lips together, never so sure of anything in his life. But like so much in his life, these sorts of moments never lasted long. 

A sharp tug to the back of his jacket sent him tumbling off Seth and onto the deck floor. He was so in the moment with Seth that he didn't hear anyone board his ship. He had no time to recover as hands grabbed at him and pulled and tugged. There were so many that he couldn't fight them off. He was vaguely aware of Seth yelling “stop” and “don't hurt him” over and over, but they weren't listening. A sharp kick to the ribs took him off guard and he had to curl into himself to protect his midsection. That's when they were able to get a good grip and lift him to his feet, several pairs of hands holding him by his arms with another tangled in his hair to make him look up. 

An English garrison? In Tortuga? On his ship? What was going on?

“Get some irons on him and back to the ship.” Said a man, obviously the leader. He didn't look like a commander, he looked like he could fit in at any tavern on this island. “And we'll chalk up what he was doing to forcing himself on young Helmsley.”

The men started to maneuver his arms until they could get the heavy iron rings around his wrists, despite his struggling and protests. 

“Barrett! Stop!” Seth yelled, running to stand between Dean and this man. He obviously knew him and that annoyed Dean for some reason. “He was not forcing himself on me!”

“That's not what it looked like.” The man called Barrett grabbed Seth by the arm and tugged, forcing a pained yelp to escape and Dean to struggle more ardently against the hands holding him. None of which was lost on the commander, but he took it all in with a wicked smirk. “Your father has been worried sick about you.”

Seth pulled his arm free. “He couldn't care less about me! Let him go!”

“I can't do that, Seth.” He said with a shake of his head. “He's a pirate, and pirates are only useful hanging from a rope.”

“Just take me!” He offered and Dean found himself agitated at the idea of losing Seth to this man. “If I'm what he wants, I'll go quietly.”

Barrett laughed and shoved Seth toward two of the redcoated bastards who held him firmly. “ _You_ were nothing but an afterthought. You're station protected you from us lumping you in with this piece of filth, but only barely. That man has been plundering your fathers sugar for well over a year. Now, he's getting what he deserves.”

Barrett approached a seething Dean and looked him over. “I expected you to be bigger.”

He surprised everyone by laughing then because that's what he did when things go gloriously south. He laughed because it threw people off, made them question his sanity, made them wonder what he was thinking. But he did struggle to get at him. Even with his hands in shackles he was pretty sure he could get some good shots in before they pulled him off. 

The hands held firm and Barrett just chuckled. “Get them both on our ship then torch this old wreck.”

“Wait! No!” Dean yelled. “Not my ship!”

They weren't listening. They basically carried him kicking and screaming off his own boat until someone finally hit him in the back of the head with a sword hilt. He didn't see them set the sails on fire, didn't see them ignite the gunpowder stores, didn't hear the explosion as his life went up in a blaze of shrapnel and fire. 

But Seth did. He also saw them drag the lifeless Captain toward another ship, one meant to bring them both to whatever fate had in store. And he couldn't help the feeling of absolute hatred that filled his chest for the man called Barrett and his father. 

This wasn't the end.

He'd save Dean from the hangman and run off with him if it was the last thing he did. 

In all likelihood, it probably would be.


	8. Enemy Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got some violence and torture (essentially) in this chapter. Just a heads up.

Dean’s head throbbed right at the base of his skull. One of these English sons of bitches must have hit him. He cracked his eyes open and thanked his lucky stars that at least it was dark wherever he had been taken. When his eyes finally focused he realized it was a ship's hold, iron bars and a filthy wooden hull walls was all that greeted him and he groaned. They even took his prized jacket. “Great.”

“Cap’n?”

He looked up quickly and winced at the sudden movement. “Sami?”

In another cell across from him was his helmsman huddled against the bars and smiling like he was so relieved to see someone familiar. He looked like they had put the poor man through hell, his face covered in cuts and bruises. But he was grinning from ear to ear when Dean approached the bars between them. “I'm glad they didn't kill yah, cap’n. I was worried for a while.” 

Dean took Sami by the hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “No, they didn't kill me. Not yet anyway. What are you doing here?”

Sami’s smile fell as he remembered. “I was takin’ the ransom to the runner, like you asked, when a pack of redcoats surrounded me.”

Dean sighed and placed his forehead against the bars. “They intercepted the ransom.”

“Aye, cap’n.” Sami said, remorseful. “I'm sorry, sir.”

Offering him a small, reassuring smile, Dean knew that if the two of them didn't come up with some sort of plan once they got to port, they were as good as dead. Pirates are usually hung publicly and their bodies are put on display as a warning to other pirates. He didn't want that for poor Sami. 

“Do you know what happened to Seth?” He asked Sami, though he wasn't shocked by the confused look on his face. 

“No, sir.” He answered. “They just dragged you in here.” Then a beat. “What are we gonna do?”

“I don't know yet.” Dean offered even though that wasn't want Sami wanted to hear. He wanted to hear Dean say that he had some grand plan, they would be back with the crew in no time, that they'd be okay. He couldn't in good conscience promise that. “Did they get any of the other crew?”

Sami just shrugged his answer and Dean patted him lightly on the arm. “Just hang in there, ok?”

“Yes, sir.”

It felt like hours later before they saw another soul. He hand Sami had been sitting in the filth and grime of the ship's hold in relative silence because there was nothing to say that could make their situation better. They weren't expecting to see anyone until they reached their destination, but soon the door to the hold opened and Barrett and a few of his men walked in with smirks on their faces that made Dean want nothing more than to run his blade through their guts...if he had one. 

“Mornin’ pirate scum!” He said happily, overly proud of himself. 

Dean made sure to paint a fake smile on his face to mock Barrett's. “Mornin’ English asshole.”

Barrett merely chuckled. “I don't like your attitude, Ambrose.”

“That's _captain_ to you!” Sami cut in. 

“Not anymore.” Barrett answered with a hard glare at him. “Can't be a captain without a ship, right?”

Dean and Barrett locked eyes, challenging each other. Dean knew in that moment that he would be the one to make sure this man died as horribly as he could think of on principle alone. 

“The men are bored and looking for some entertainment on our journey back to St. Augustine.” Barrett said after a few seconds. 

“How is that my problem?” Dean said casually, not willing to show any apprehension even though he knew exactly where this was going. He'd spent enough time on an English ship to know what exactly _entertainment_ meant when a pirate was involved. 

All Barrett had to do was nod at the men that until now we're flanking him. They opened Sami's door and immediately crowded the young man until they managed to get shackles around his wrists. Dean could see the fear in the young man's eyes and he immediately was on his feet and at the bars, hard gaze locked with their captors. “You leave him be. I'm the captain, take me.”

Barrett sinister grin widened. “Oh, you're coming too.”

Dean didn't fight them when they opened his door and put a set of shackles on him. They dragged both men out of the hold and onto the deck where the bright sunlight damn near blinded both of them. Once his eyes adjusted, he could see what was probably the entire crew glaring and sneering, cursing and spitting at them as they were shoved into the open space before them. Poor Sami looked terrified and Dean didn't blame him. This was not going to be good for either of them. But through the crowd, Dean was only looking for one person. Seth. Where was Seth? 

He didn't have to wait long. Barrett dragged Seth from what Dean could only guess was the captain's quarters. He looked no worse for wear, not that they would hurt someone like him. Like Barrett had said, Seth's station is the only thing protecting him now and Dean found himself grateful for at least that. He made sure to keep his face impassive when Barrett pulled Seth to right in front of them saying something along the lines of “you should see what happens to pirates who steal from your father.”

Dean remained calm, smirking at Barrett. He didn't want to give him any satisfaction. Sami, on the other hand, was shaking like a leaf, eyes darting everywhere as he tried to get a handle on his fear. 

Leaving Seth off to the side, Barrett stepped up to Dean and matched his smirk with one of his own. “I don't scare you, do I?”

Dean shook his head. “No English piece of bilge scum scares me.”

“And why is that?” Barrett asked, actually curious and he started circling Dean, sizing him up. “Is it because you used to be one of us? You have the navy tattoo on your arm.”

Deans eyes widened a fraction but the smirk remained. “Not voluntarily.”

“Right.” Barrett laughed. “I guess it really doesn't matter, does it? A pirates a pirate.” He stopped circling when he was face to face with Dean. “But you and your man don't have the brand, so you've never been caught, which shows some skill. That is, until now.”

Dean's grin began to falter. He'd seen this happen before. Captured pirates were branded with a capital ‘P’ to show all they come in contact with that they were lowly miscreants should they manage to escape hanging, which was rare. 

Barrett nodded to those holding Sami and the dragged him forward struggling. Dean watched helplessly as they shoved him to his knees in front of a barrel and held his arms out, exposing the back of his forearm. The brand was already glowing white hot when they approached. He was panicking, muttering the word ‘no’ over and over. He screamed when they branded his left arm. That scream would haunt Dean for the rest of his life, however short that may be. 

Then it was his turn. Much like Sami, they pulled him toward the barrel and held his arms out. His eyes never left Barrett, defiantly challenging him every step of the way. This English bastard just wanted to see them suffer like the sadistic son of a bitch he was. But Dean wasn't going to give him what he wanted, not with air still in his lungs. 

When they pressed the brand to his arm he made sure to bite the inside of his mouth until he tasted blood to keep from screaming at the searing hot iron burning his flesh. 

Barrett laughed right along with the entire crew at their pain. Seth was the only one looking away when Dean finally managed to get the pain under control. He looked sick, angry, and hurt because there was nothing he could do to help either of them. 

“Seth?” Barrett said suddenly and his face darted up. “I think you should come up with the next punishment.” 

They young man's eyes slid to dean, wide and fearful, before snapping back to Barrett. He was shaking his head. 

Barrett talked to Seth and threw an arm over his shoulder, forcing a growl from Dean against his better judgement. “You can choose, or I will.” He warned. “Lashes or we can hang them right here and now?”

“Wade, no.” Seth mumbled, terrified. 

Again Barrett grinned. “Hanging it is! No one will miss a few pirates anyway.”

This time Dean fought the arms on him, mainly to try to get to Sami. He knew he could do nothing to help him, but he felt like he had to try to do something. They were positioned and a rope was thrown over the mast beam and tied into a makeshift noose before being placed around their necks and pulled taut enough they they weren't going anywhere. He was trying to calm Sami down the best he could while trying to keep his own terror in check. Nothing like coming face to face with one's own mortality to really horrify, and poor Sami was feeling every second of it. “Calm down! You'll be okay! I'm right here!”

“Stop!” Seth yelled and everyone froze. Barrett was watching him in interest, waiting to see what he said. “Lashes! I choose lashes!”

“I don't know, Seth.” Barrett said. “We've already got the rope around their necks.”

Then Seth looked directly at Dean, eyes glassy, then back to wade. “You wouldn't want to deprive the people of St. Augustine the pleasure of seeing a pirate hanging, would you?”

“Fine.” Said Barrett and motioned for Sami and Dean to be released from the nooses. “How many lashes?”

Again Seth looked at Dean who mouthed the word ‘fifteen’. It seemed low enough that it would be bearable. At least they'd live to see another day. The makeshift nooses were wrapped around their wrists and lifted before their shirts were torn to expose their backs. And Dean liked this shirt.

“Fifteen.”

Barrett tisked Seth. “Only fifteen? I think thirty is more appropriate.”

Seth stood his ground. “You asked _me_ how many. I gave you my number. Fifteen.”

“I think you're soft on these _pirates_ , Seth.” Seethed Barrett, no longer amused. Then he said to the crewman with the whip, “25 lashes.”

“Fuck.” Dean spat under his breath. This wasn't going to be like Roman, they were actually trying to hurt them and they were going to succeed. This was going to be very bad. Hopefully they'd pass out before twenty. 

The first hit took his breath away. He'd been whipped before, but not like this. The flogger put everything he had behind his lash and Dean knew he'd be lucky to make it to ten. The one whipping Sami was the same and he cried out with every lash. Dean managed to make it to five before he couldn't hold in the pained grunts and yelps. Sami passed out by twelve. Dean didn't remember much after that other than the white hot lick of the whip at his back and the jeering laughter. 

He had no idea if he'd made it to 25.


	9. Beautiful Uncertainty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went from brutal to angsty and fluffy...wow.

He was vaguely aware of the slow rolling motion of the ship when he finally came out of that blessed darkness and shoved into consciousness with a burning pain unlike he had ever felt radiating from his back to his very soul. The only consolation was the comforting feel of soft fingers carding their way through his hair. Hard wood pressed against his chest, but his head was lovingly cradled on warm softness. The groan left his lips before he could stop it. 

“Dean?”

It was Seth and his name - not captain and not sir - sounded so good tumbling from his mouth. He was concerned and relieved and had such a loving tone to his voice that, despite the pain, Dean couldn't help the small smile that played at one corner of his mouth. 

“You're ok, wake up.” Seth voice was soothing and the hand that had been moving through his hair was now lightly caressing his cheek. 

Even through all the shit he'd been subjected to, Seth felt like the one good thing to come out of all this pain because here he was, lightly and lovingly brushing the hair from Dean's forehead. 

“Am...am I dead?” His own voice was hoarse and foreign when he spoke. His eyes cracked open to reveal the same shitty hold he had been in previously, bloody rags and sickeningly pink bowls of disgusting water lay on the floor beside the bench he was lying on, and needle and thread that had obviously been used was sitting next to that. He knew that carnage came from him and he allowed himself to shudder and thank his lucky stars that he was unconscious for most of it.

There was a light chuckle from Seth. “Not yet. Despite their best efforts.”

“Sami?”

“He fared much better than you, I'm afraid.” Seth answered with a sad sigh. “Once he passed out, they ordered you take the rest of his lashes. Then you went unconscious and they...well, I guess it doesn't matter.”

Dean sighed. “How many did they give you?” 

Seth hesitated, his hand stilling in Dean's hair as if he wasn't expecting him to know that. “11.”

“They will probably blame those on me.” 

“Well you did have me whipped once.” He laughed sadly.

Dean grinned against Seth's leg. “You deserved it.”

Dean tried to lift himself up off of Seth's lap, but cried out as a fresh wave of pain radiated from his back and all through his body. He realized pretty quickly that he wasn't going anywhere any time soon. Hell, he wondered why he wasn't dead if he'd taken 27 lashes to the back. Seth was cooing soothingly and Dean almost wanted to hate him for patronizing him as such, but his words and gentle touches seemed to calm him down and he was able to take control of the excruciating pain more effectively. “Why are you here, Seth?”

“I asked to be.” He answered so matter-of-factly that it threw Dean off for a moment. 

“Why?”

There was a long pause as Seth thought about his words. “Because it's still another few days to St. Augustine and if I left you in the state you were in, you'd have bled to death by morning.”

A sense of dread, and maybe more than a twinge of fear, settled in the pit of his stomach and he suddenly wished Seth would have just let him die. It would have been better than the public humiliation that awaited him when they reached port. “They're just going to hang me anyway. What's the difference?”

“Maybe I didn't want you to go just yet.”

Though it hurt with every twitch of muscle, he managed to reach a weak arm up to rest his hand on Seth's knee and squeeze. The warm weight of the younger mans on on top of his seemed to edge out that feeling of dread ever so slightly, enough to make life, however short it may be, bearable if even for a moment. 

“I'm going to talk to my father when we get to port.” Seth said, giving Dean's hand a small squeeze. “Maybe I can talk him into speaking with the governor about not hanging you and Sami.”

“But what would that cost you?”

He knew, even if he couldn't see him, that Seth was smiling sadly. “That doesn't really matter. I'll be okay.”

Now that feeling in his chest changed to guilt. Seth would be giving up everything - his freedom, his future, his mother - for Dean, someone who would have ransomed him off to his own father a few days ago. How could Dean in good conscious not give him a fighting chance? 

“You can't do that.” He said, again squeezing Seth's knee to show he was serious. “When all of this is...over, find Roman. Tell him I ordered for him to take you to Spain. Then tell him to take whatever profit I have left and use it to buy his own ship. He deserves it. And you deserve to be happy.”

“Captain, I -”

“I'm not a captain anymore.” He interrupted, the words stinging even from his own mouth. “You can call me Dean.”

“You'll get another ship.” He said, a certainty in his voice that gave Dean even the smallest glimmer of hope. “When you do, I'd love to be on your crew.”

He smiled then, “There will always be a place for you, even if it's just to clean the barnacles off the rudder.”

They both laughed, even as uncertainty and fear settled in them. But as Seth leaned over and placed his lips to Dean's temple, he knew that this, them, together, was good.


	10. Demise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, I'm sorry.

He remembered drifting in and out of consciousness the rest of the voyage to St. Augustine; he remembered the pain in his back getting so bad he would dry heave against it; he remembered Seth, the man who wouldn't leave his side. He wondered what the men on the ship thought about the rich little runaway who preferred to throw his lot in with pirates, only for a minute, then soft fingers carding through his sweat soaked hair tried to calm the fever that had set in away. Without Seth, he truly would be dead. 

Seth also made sure to tend to Sami in the cell next to his, though the young helmsman had fared far better than Dean had. He would ask after the captain, make sure he wasn't dead, then he and Seth would whisper in the corner of the cell until Dean would wake up and Seth would be at his side. 

He had asked Seth, in those rare coherent moments when the fever finally broke, what they spoke of. “Getting you two free.” Seth had answered and let it drop. Dean didn't have the energy to press the issue. 

When they reached port, everything changed. Seth was pulled away from them, leaving both Dean and Sami in the hands of the British who were all to happy to make sure their pain was resolutely ignored as they lifted them to their feet. It took a few tries, but Dean eventually got his boots under him and was able to stand under his own power out of sheer defiance alone when they slapped the cuffs around his wrists. He did have to bite the inside of his cheek when the heavy metal brushed against the still tender brand. 

Keeping the pain in check was the hardest part when they were damn near dragged out of the hold and onto the deck where they were met by Barrett. All around him crew and others were preparing to dock, but he couldn't find Seth. 

“You look like hell, Ambrose.” Barrett sneered. 

Dean wished he had the energy to struggle, to kick and scream, to tear this man's head from his shoulders and feed it to the Sharks! But he didn't, so he resigned himself to glaring at him with as much malice he could muster. 

Barrett just chuckled, clearly unfazed by this show of bravado. He motioned for his men and both Dean and Sami were yanked toward the gangplank leading to the dock. “I'll make sure to kill you when I get the chance, Barrett!” Dean yelled back at him with what little energy he could muster

The other man merely grinned. “Good luck.”

On the dock, they were met by even more soldiers ready to take them to their eventual demise. But standing in front of them was a man Dean had never seen before. He was tall and fairly large for an obvious English gentleman if his clothing were any indication. He was boring holes into Dean with the look of sheer disgust on his face when the former captain was halted right in front of him. 

“So you're the pirate that's been causing me so much trouble?” He said, voice deep and gravely and stern. “You're not what I expected.”

Dean managed a grin. “You must be Hunter Helmsley. That sugar has bagged me a pretty penny on the market. I suppose you only deal in high quality merchandise, so it's no surprise.”

There was a small sort of chuckle that came out of this man's mouth seconds before the slap hit the side of Dean's face and sent his head spinning awkwardly to the side, jostling the cuts at his back and exponentially raising the pain level. “You have a smart mouth. Hasn't anyone ever taught you how to address your betters?”

“I would gladly address them properly if you show me one.” Dean retorted, licking the small trickle of blood from the side of his mouth. 

Another slap. “I will make sure your body is hanging from the docks before the end of the week.”

“Father!” Seth was being led toward them by Barrett. “Leave him be!”

Dean watched as Helmsley's face shifted from anger to barely controlled rage. He grabbed Seth roughly by the arm, forcing a surprised yelp from him. “ _You_ are in no position to give me orders! How _DARE_ you try to leave your responsibilities! How _DARE_ you throw your lot in with pirates! I should have you hanged right along side these two pieces of trash!”

“Then why don't you?” Seth snapped back. “It would be better than living under your roof.”

Helmsley's eyes narrowed. Whatever control he had was quickly waning and Dean knew this was going to be bad for someone. He couldn't have guessed that someone would have been Sami. 

Dean didn't see the dagger, he had no way to stop him and no warning. It was like everything moved in slow motion when he finally registered the glint of the silver as it was plunged into the helmsman's gut. Shock. That's what registered on the young man's face when the blade punctured his skin. He didn't even look pained, but the horrified expression on his face was something that Dean wouldn't easily forget. 

“No!” Dean screamed once his brain caught up to what was happening in front of him. “Sami!” 

The helmsman fell to his knees just as Helmsley pulled the blade free and wiped it off on a handkerchief as if nothing had happened. His eyes were locked with Deans as if he could help him, but hands held him firm no matter how hard he struggled. 

“You still want to throw your lot in with pirates, Seth?” Helmsley asked his son. Seth, for his part, looked completely speechless, unable to formulate the words for the utter shock at what his father had just done. He and Sami had become close these last few days and the pained look in his eyes meant he felt the sorrow as well. “That's what I thought. Barrett, get him home and make sure he stays there.”

Dean was still struggling to get to Sami when Barrett nodded and grabbed him by the arm to pull him along. In his distraught state, Seth merely followed. But Dean? Dean was shouting every obscenity he could think of at Helmsley, trying desperately to get at him and tear him limb from limb. Sami was gone by the time he ordered his body be removed from the dock. 

“I'll kill you, you son of a whore!” Dean yelled, pulled, scratched, clawed. The pain in his back was gone as the sheer rage took over. Helmsley had not only killed a member of his crew, but a friend. That could not go unpunished. But the hands held firm. 

“You are in no position to threaten me!” Helmsley laughed. “He's just one less pirate on the sea, just like you will be.”

He nodded to the soldiers holding Dean and they pulled him kicking and screaming away from Helmsley. But not until the man got one last dig in. “I'm sure the governor would have no problem moving your execution up. I'll be anxious to see you hang from a rope...pirate.”


	11. A Plan In Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took that chapter down to fix it because it was a _HOT MESS_!

“You have to let me go, Barrett!” Seth pleaded, but the grip on his arm tightened to a painful level, painful enough for him to grit his teeth against it as he was dragged through the front door of his father's mansion. He knew it was a futile effort to try and reach Barrett, he was his father's man after all, but he had to try. “Please, you don't understand.”

He heard Barrett sniff a laugh, “Oh, I understand. But your father isn't paying me to care.”

“Obviously.” Snapped Seth and tried again to pull his arm free. He even managed to slam his foot down on Barrett's instep, causing him to jump and cry out, but his grip never wavered.

“Nice try, Helmsley.”

It didn't matter what Seth did - bite, scratch, claw, punch - Barrett never let up his grip. He wondered absently where his father had even found a man like this, but only momentarily. They had reached his bedroom and Barrett shoved Seth through the door. He tripped over his own feet and tumbled to the floor, wincing as he landed awkwardly on his elbow. 

“You should have a real nice view of the gallows from this room, Seth.” He sneered. “I'd just accept your fate.”

He sprang to his feet and charged for the door, determined to get there before Barrett closed it. It made it a split second too late and slammed his shoulder into the heavy oak wood. He heard the lock slide into place just as he reached for the handle. “Son of a bitch!”

It didn't matter how much he tugged and cursed and scratched, he could not get the door open. One final kick and one last curse and he gave up, grabbing at his hair as the anxiety began to rise. 

Now what did he do? Was he just supposed to sit back and accept the fate his father had decided for him? Did he fight and try and escape? Did he try and get to Dean, get him free somehow? _Dean_ is what he wanted, but how did he get to him three stories up in his father's mansion with no way to get down except a sheer drop to the square below? 

And Sami, poor Sami, had lost his life, gutted in the street by his own father. That poor man didn't deserve to go out like that. He and Sami had a plan! Seth was going to cooperate, was going to convince his father he was going to do what was expected of his while he bribed the guards and he and Sami got the pair of pirates free! 

Now? 

No what?

That plan wouldn't work anymore, not by a long shot. What he needed was Roman, Kevin, and the rest of Deans crew, but they would have no way of knowing what had happened. He was sure they would have been stranded after Dean's ship was destroyed, would have been unable to get to St. Augustine even if they knew that's where Barrett was taking them. 

Dean was going to die and Seth couldn't help but feel like it was his fault. 

\---

He didn't know how he'd gotten here, not really. The blind rage that took over after Helmsley killed Sami was overwhelming. He remembered struggling and fighting to get back, to somehow get to Sami's body, but it was ultimately useless and he was tossed into a dark cell like he was nothing and locked in like the criminal they perceived him to be. 

Dean would never forget the look his his friends eyes as the light seemed to go out. He would never forget the way he silently pleaded for help, a help Dean could not provide. He should have been able to protect him. 

This was his fault. He was greedy. He wanted that ransom and he pushed aside all common sense until the end to do it. Seth wasn't what he expected and he should have just taken him to Spain. 

Seth muddled his head, especially when he finally realized his feelings for the poor little rich boy who was running away to find a better life. He'd never really thought about it, but prisons aren't always made of metal bars. 

And Seth was going to give that freedom up for him, to free him. But Dean was sure that wouldn't happen now. Now, he was set to meet the hangman within the next few days and no one could seemingly stop it. 

“Ambrose!” A guard yelled. “You have a visitor.”

“Didn't think a lowlife like me would be allowed visitors?” He asked, gingerly walking to the cell door and wrapping his fingers around the bars. 

“We make exceptions for pregnant wives.”

Pregnant wives? Dean didn't have a wife, and no pregnant mistresses that he could think of. It all became clear when Charlotte stepped into view looking surprisingly demure. Her red velvet jacket and breeches were replaced by a simple gray cloak and a plane blue dress stuffed at the belly to make her appear pregnant. 

“Thank you, kind sir.” She said with a sweet, sad smile. “May the good lord repay you for your kindness.”

He gave her a thankful smile, “Thank you ma'am. Though I don't know how a such sweet woman got involved with scum like him.”

“Yeah, me either.” Said Dean and was met with a hard look from the guard. 

“May we have some privacy so I may talk to my husband before he is taken from me?” She asked and he nodded before she squeezed his hand in thanks. 

She waited until he was gone before turning her attention to Dean who was grinning in obvious amusement. “May the good lord repay you for your kindness? Charlotte, really?”

“You know.” She said and took his hand. “They tend to let men see their wives, even in prison.”

“Nice touch with the pregnancy.” He said. “How did you know to find me here?”

“My crew saw that man grab you and Seth from your ship. One recognized Wade Barrett and said he'd been working for Hunter Helmsley for years and that he was a right bastard. This was the most logical place.” Then her face turned sad, yet a determination was still there that reminded him why he had loved her so many years ago. “Roman and the crew are on St. Augustine. We’ll get you and Sami out.”

He sighed and pressed his head against the bars. “They killed Sami. Right in front of me. They whipped and beat us, then killed him unprovoked.”

“Those bastards!” She spat. “That Seth will pay for this!”

“He had nothing to do with this.” Dean snapped. “If anything he tried to help us. We can't leave port without him. I assume the crew is aboard your ship?”

“Aye.” 

He smirked. “Tell them to get ready. We won't let Sami's death go unpunished. Pirates are going to take this city, but I'm killing Hunter Helmsley myself.”

“We’ll have to attack while you're on the gallows.” She offered solemnly. “It could all go horribly wrong.”

“You get Roman as close to the front of the crowd as possible.” He said. “He'll need to cut the rope.”

“Won't they recognize him?” 

“Maybe, but it's a risk I'm willing to take if he is.”

She nodded and took his hand again. “I know they hurt you.” She whispered, turning his wrist to observe the angry looking brand on his arm. “We’ll set it right.”

He gave her a weak smile and he gently kissed him on the cheek before calling for the guard again. Then she was gone and he was left to his own thoughts. 

They'd be alright. He'd get to Seth somehow and they'd be off on the sea again in no time.

He hoped. And for the first time, he prayed.


	12. Fate Interveined

The drums beat out a solemn tune to his demise. It echoed through the square and down into his cell like an ominous chorus to his demise. How had it come to this? He could chalk it up to just being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but those last few glorious moments on his ship with Seth were the happiest he had been in a long time. He would never, ever, call them a mistake. Sure, he could have listened to that captured captain and not found the chest, he could have just done what Seth asked and taken him to Spain, he could have tried harder to save Sami, he could have….he should have…

Yet, here he sat in a dark, unforgiving prison cell waiting for the executioner with hopes that his crew would hold up their end of the bargain. They were pirates after all. Charlotte had assured him that there would be help waiting, that his crew and hers were going to burn this city to the ground. Good. He hoped they did. But Barrett and Helmsley were his...provided Roman was able to stop the hangman in time. There were too many variables, so many things that could go wrong. 

And Seth. What of Seth? Dean wasn't leaving this god forsaken city without him. And when he did, he was finally finding that island somewhere and settling down with the man he…

Loved? 

Did he love Seth? All the signs were there; he'd fight for him, he couldn't imagine life without him, he'd give up everything for him, hell, he'd even die for him. If that wasn't love, then Dean didn't know the meaning of the word. This had to work because he couldn't leave Seth here to suffer at the hands of his father - no way, no how. 

He lifted his head as footsteps headed toward his cell, four sets, and drew in a shaky breath. This was it. 

Barrett, Helmsley, and two guards stepped into view in front of his cell and just stood there, watching him like some sort of animal. 

“It's time, _pirate scum_.” 

Dean didn't make a move to stand, he merely grinned and locked eyes with Helmsley, who stood with his head held high and his arms behind his back, scowling. “Before this day is over, both you and your little bodyguard will be dead.” Dean promised him, earning a ghost of a chuckle from the man. 

“I do believe, you have your information mixed up.” Helmsley responded, nodding to the guards to open the cell. Dean again didn't react until they grabbed him by the arms and made him stand, making him cry out at the pain still radiating from his healing back. They made quick work of binding his hands behind him and forcing him to face Helmsley. The two men stared each other down, challenging one another silently in a battle of wills. “See, I'm not a betting man, Ambrose, I like a guarantee that things will go my way.”

“Then I guess disappointment is a real kick in the balls, huh?” Dean countered. 

Helmsley smirked, then looked to Barrett. The movement was quick, leaving Dean no time to react when the Englishman grabbed the back of his neck and drove something into his side. He wouldn't say it hurt, not yet anyway, but the impact took his breath away. He looked down just in time to see him remove the thin stiletto blade from just under his left ribs. 

“Consider that my guarantee.” Said Helmsley. “It won't kill you right away, but even if you somehow manage to escape you'll only last a few hours at most.”

Dean was in shock. Barrett had just sealed his death warrant. This would be a slow, drawn out death from a wound no larger than the width of a piece of straw. He was a dead man now, no matter what happened. Dean Ambrose, feared pirate captain, was going to die on St. Augustine. 

“Cover the wound.” Barrett ordered the guards. “The hangman is waiting.”

By the time they reached the square, the pain had reached an almost unbearable level. They just kept pulling him forward, picking him up if he fell and dragging him towards the jeering crowd that had gathered to see the hanging. They threw rotten fruit and vegetables at him, spit at him, and cursed him as he was forcibly pulled towards the looming gallows. They grabbed at him and scratched, making the pain in his side and back explode to even higher levels. 

That's when he saw Charlotte pushing her way through the crowd, looking the same as he did a few days ago. She looked sad but determined as the guard pulling him along let her throw her arms around him and hug him close. “The men are ready.” She whispered in his ear and kissed him on the lips in a chaste sort of way. 

“I'm afraid I'm dead either way.” He replied through clenched teeth. He was pulled away from her before he could elaborate, but the look in her eye told him she might understand. 

The steps leading to the gallows were tough. Every time he lifted his left leg, the pain in his side forced him to double over. The crowd laughed at him, screaming that he was a coward that was only trying to escape his fate. The trap door creaked precariously when they finally got him into it and he managed to stand unassisted, though he wasn't as balanced as he could be. 

From a balcony off to the said, Dean caught a glimpse of Helmsley standing next to who he could only guess was the governor of the city. He was an old, waifish man who looked like one strong breeze would send him off his feet. Yet, there was a hardness to him, even under that ridiculous wig. He wanted to see Dean hang as much as Helmsley did, he could tell. But it was Helmsley who held his gaze, amused and triumphant as if Dean was already dead. He supposed, he was. He was already wavering on his feet, barely able to stand as the governor began laying down the sentence. 

“Captain Dean Ambrose, you have been charged with the crime of piracy, a heinous act punishable by death…”

He had continued talking, but Dean had stopped listening. His mind turned to the thumping sound coming from a window several stories above them. Seth, it was Seth, and his heart fluttered in his chest at the sight of him. He was banging on the glass, trying to get Dean's attention, and now he had it. Dean could see the sadness, helplessness in his eyes, the desperation and all he could offer him was a weak smile. This probably was the last time Dean would see him. He was mouthing something, a phrase over and over as he banged on the glass panes.

I love you.

Dean felt the tears begin to sting his eyes. Seth loved him. And he loved Seth. It was now pointless to hide it, so he mouthed it right back to him and offered the most comforting grin he could muster given the circumstances. 

“Do you have any last words?” The governor said, bringing Dean back to the here and now.

Sure, he had a lot of things he could say, but what was the point? No one cared what a pirate had to say as he passed from this world to the next, so he shook his head. 

The hangman approached, a large man in black with a mask obscuring his face, and placed a black hood over his head, followed by the noose. Then, “Roman is waiting at the bottom of the door.”

“Kevin!?”

“Good luck, cap’n”

Kevin took a few steps back as the drum beat quickened. There was a few seconds when Dean didn't know what was about to happen, but suddenly the floor beneath him opened and he was falling through. The was no sudden jerk of the noose tightening, just the strong arms of Roman as he easily caught him. 

Then all hell broke loose. He heard Charlotte yell “NOW!” And the sound of pirates screaming and civilians yelling took over the courtyard. 

Roman pulled the noose off and yanked the hood free after placing Dean onto the ground and cutting his bindings. “You ok, cap’n?”

Dean managed a chuckle that turned into a cough that left a coppery taste on his tongue. “‘Fraid not, Big Dog.” He said and pointed to the stab wound on his left side. 

Roman lifted Dean's shirt and his eyes widened at the tiny puncture hole. “A stiletto?”

“Helmsley's man hurt me bad.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Called it a guarantee. I ain't gonna make it.” Then he grabbed Roman by the shirt. “You give me a sword and get me to Seth!”

“Yes sir.” Roman assured with a nod. He lifted Dean to his feet and supported his weight the best he could. 

Before they exited their hiding spot, Dean looked at Roman fondly. “When this is all over, take what's left of my earnings and buy yourself a ship.”

“But sir…”

“No, you deserve it, Roman.” He said. “You've been a good friend to me over the years. It's the least I can do.”

Roman have him a quick nod and turned away, obviously hiding the emotion welling up in his eyes. Dean didn't press the matter, he just let Roman lead them out from under the gallows and toward the Helmsley house. 

It was slow going, and several times Roman had to put Dean down to defend them from the English garrison that had stormed to courtyard to defend against the pirate uprising. Dean did what he could, swing his sword with all the strength his failing body could manage. They reached the home and were met with Barrett and several of his goons. 

“I should have known you'd pull something like this.” He sneered, readying his weapon. “I should have just killed you outright.”

“I'm decidedly hard to kill.” Dean grinned with bloodstained teeth. “I'm willing to bet you aren't as difficult.”

Roman swung down with his sword, forcing Barrett to expose his chest to defend against the blow. That's when Dean rammed his own blade through the englishman's gut. He looked surprised, but managed a grin as he fell to the ground. “Well played, Ambrose.”

He didn't respond to Barrett, and Roman quickly dispatched of the other men. He and Dean stepped over the bodies and into the home. They could hear the pounding and screaming from up the stairs. Seth, that was definitely Seth. 

By the time they were half way up, Dean's left leg was now useless and Roman was primarily carrying him towards Seth's door. “Just a little further, sir.”

At the top of the steps, they were met by Helmsley, a pistol pointed directly at them.

“Move!” Dean demanded.

It only took one shot to the knee cap and the both of them fell to the ground with Roman gripping at the wound. 

“You aren't going anywhere, Ambrose.”

A growl escaped his lips and he reached for the pistol he knew Roman kept in his boot. It only took one shot, one single shot, and Helmsley fell back. 

“Dean!” The muffled voice of Seth came from behind the wooden door. He was pounding and kicking at it as hard as he could. 

Dean crawled with what little strength he had left towards the door, but he couldn't get much further than that. He fell onto his chest and coughed until the carpet was stained with blood. He could only have a few minutes left. “S-Seth?”

Seth's voice was at the bottom of the door when he spoke again, he must have been crouching. “Dean, let me out!”

The fog around his vision was beginning to get darker. “D-do you think that story about the stars is true?” He said, voice so low he wasn't sure Seth had heard him. 

“Dean, what happened?”

“Will I become one of those lost souls looking for my partner in eternity?”

“Dean, no. Open the door!” Seth pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion.

He could hear Seth sobbing now, even as the feeling in his fingers and feel disappeared and his eyes became heavy. It was getting harder to breathe now. Somehow, Roman pulled himself to his feet and managed to get the door open. Seth bolted free and took Dean in his arms, rolling him into his lap. He was stroking Dean's cheek now, lovingly and soothingly. “Dean, just wait.”

“You'll c-come find me, right?”

Seth was nodding. “Yeah, I'll come find you.”

“Good.” Dean breathed, his eyes slowly rolling into the back of his head. “I-I lo...ve...you.”

“No!” Seth screamed, gripping Dean's body as the life finally left it. “Roman, help him!”

“I'm sorry.” Said the Samoan, sniffing back his own tears as he gripped Seth's shoulder. “He's gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, I was sorry about Sami. I'm VERY sorry about this chapter. But it isn't the end. There is one more chapter to go.


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some obvious liberties here about how they met and their names.

_*About 250 years later.*_

Florida. A place he never thought he'd ever care about going, one he sure as hell didn't think he'd be driving his shitty car to, and one he couldn't believe held so much promise and opportunity. He'd been signed to a contract, one that would help him realize his dream, one that could finally bring him that completeness he always wanted.

Wrestling. Pure and simple. 

Some called it a silly dream, one not worth pursuing because who wanted to be a _wrestler_? But he'd show them that a poor kid from the streets of Cincinnati could live his dream, no matter how stupid they said it was or how worthless they said _he_ was. He'd prove them all wrong.

It'd been a hard fought battle to get here, one full of blood and tears he'd shed and he'd spilled. Controversial is what they called his signing because The Street Dog Jon Moxley wouldn't be controlled. He was far better suited for the Deathmatch circus in Philadelphia than a developmental contract with WWE. But he'd been given this opportunity and he sure as shit wasn't going to waste it. 

His first day was a whirlwind, one he barely remembered, full of names and faces of other wrestlers that would change over the course of the next few days. Hell, his own name wouldn't be his anymore. 

One man in particular caught his eye and he found himself immediately drawn to the tall, dark, and handsome man who said his name was Colby when introduced to the group. He remembered thinking that such a strange name didn't match the bronzed God who could flip and fly like none he'd ever seen. The word ‘ninja’ came to mind.

His meeting with the higher ups was meant to distinguish his new identity, one that would carry him through his wrestling career as long as he remained employed with the WWE. They had said it was a name well known in the Florida area, one of a man who became legend in the mid 18th century. He'd never paid much attention in history class, but being named after a pirate captain couldn't be that bad, right?

“Hey!” He heard someone call after his meeting ended. His breath seemed to catch in his throat when that very same bronze God with the silly name was running toward him. He thought that skinny jeans were stupid on a good day, but somehow this man made them work. He stopped right in front of him and beamed a large smile that he couldn't help but return. “You're Jon Good, right? Jon Moxley in CZW?”

He nodded, grin still painting his face like he'd won a prize by being in Colby's presence. “That's me. Well, not anymore.”

The bronze God held out his hand to shake and he took it, relishing the feeling of the warm pressure of his palm. “Colby Lopez. You might know me as Tyler Black in Ring of Honor.”

Recognition set in. Yes, he'd heard of him, everyone had. Surprisingly, he wasn't what he expected. “Oh yeah! I know you! Good to meet yah, man.”

“Look, I got a really weird name handed to me in that meeting.” He said, a twinkle in his eye that was playful with a touch of something he couldn't identify. “Something about pirates in Florida. While I think it's cool, I'd like to know more. I heard you got something similar and I was wondering if you'd be up to going to the local museum with me to see what it's all about.”

He was nodding before any second thought formed in his head, falling in next to this man as he walked toward the exit. It wasn't like he had anything better to do, and he hadn't made any friends yet, so why not? “What name they give you?”

“Seth Rollins.” he answered with a smirk. “You?”

“Dean Ambrose.” 

“You know, I can't shake the feeling that we've met before.” Said the newly appointed Seth Rollins, a name he'd have to get used to saying because his first order of business was to challenge him to a championship match. Go big or go home, right? 

It was funny, but he'd been thinking the same thing. It was like they had been on the same paths until they met in this very moment, but never crossing. “Maybe it's deja vu?”

“Whatever it is, I know we'll work really well together.” He said. “You just have that _vibe_ about you.”

While he'd never consider himself one for traipsing around a museum - not his thing by a long shot - being with Seth was nice. They hung close to each other, sharing war stories from their days on the independent circuit and their hope for the future. He could get used to this. And, he'd have to admit, the museum was pretty cool.

They had asked a docent about the two individuals whose names they now shared and she led them to a small corner of the museum with a large white panel recounting a pirate uprising in St. Augustine in the 18th century. Captain Dean Ambrose, feared pirate of the Caribbean, captured in Tortuga, sentenced to hang in St. Augustine, was the focus of the panel. It spoke of his life until that point, how he'd become the pirate he was, and how he was a smart and cunning man who'd win with wit and charm and a cutlas. He liked this Dean Ambrose, but... 

“So Dean Ambrose was hanged?” He'd asked, feeling weird about saying that name out loud. 

“Well, no.” She said. “There was a plot to rescue him. Historians aren't really sure what happened, but he wound up dead after the smoke cleared.”

“And what about Seth?” Seth asked, curiously reading down the panel and chewing on his thumb in a way that sent a shiver through the other man's body. 

The docent stood next to him and pointed to a small portrait on the lower left hand side. “That was commissioned by Seth Rollins himself. There was no mention of a Seth Rollins in the historical record until after this battle. There's theories that he was actually the son of a sugar merchant who was captured by pirates, but nothing definitive. He was a pirate captain who seemed to have taken over where captain Ambrose left off. Word has it that the jacket he's wearing is even Ambrose's. Some historians think they may have been lovers.”

“That looks a little like you, Seth.” He said, leaning in close with the bronzed God, close enough to feel his warmth at his side. 

“I guess it does. Weird.” Seth shrugged.

They both thanked the nice lady and continued to walk the museum until the doors closed. It was a warm dark evening when they stepped out onto the street. He chanced a look toward the sky and noted just how many stars seemed to be twinkling tonight. 

“Hey, I know this might be strange, and you can say no if you want, but there's supposedly this little Spanish restaurant not that far from here that makes one hell of a margarita.” Seth said, drawing his attention away from the stars. “You wanna check it out...y’know...with me.”

He smiled then, genuine and wide. “Yeah, I love a good margarita.”

Little did he know that this meeting would shape their careers, their personal lives, and their history forever. He couldn't seem to shake the feeling like Seth had _found_ him amongst the shit in his life. But He and Seth had always been and will always be two stars, just waiting to find each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What?! A happy ending!? From me!? Sort of!?
> 
> Thanks everyone who read and left comments and kudos. You all are amazing.


End file.
